


Argentum (Old Version

by SincerelyBel



Category: D.Gray-man, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, Allen is Berserker, Allen is Servant Berserker for a good reason I swear, BAMF Allen Walker, Gen, Help me the plot-bunnies are holding me hostage, Holy War is long over, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 01:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyBel/pseuds/SincerelyBel
Summary: When Illya summons Berserker, she doesn't get Herakles. Instead, she gets a certain white-haired exorcist. (Old Version)





	1. The Meeting

_”Hear thee_

_I command thee to my side_

_And entrust my fate in thy sword._

_Heeding to Holy Grail’s refuge._

_If thou surrender to this will and reason, answer my call._

_Offer thine oath._

_I embody Virtue in the Eternal World._

_I chastise Evil in the Eternal World._

_Thou art the Seven Heavens harboring the great spirit trinity._

_Come forth O Keeper of Balance!”_

Illyasviel von Einzbern shivered in her thin nightgown, snow swirling around her form in the thick of the Black Forest.The circle before her flashed, and a pillar of light shot up to the heavens. After a few moments, the light vanished, and a figure was left in its place. For a long, horrible moment, there was silence, the only sound that of the howling wind and flurry of snow. Then the figure spoke.

”Servant Berserker is at your command, Master.” The figure said politely, and stepped out into the moonlight.

Berserker…… was smaller than Illya had expected. He was young, looking to be in his late teens at most, despite his bone white hair that was all too similar to a Homonculi’s. His uneven white hair was tied back with a crimson ribbon, and his messy bangs framed a thin, borderline feminine face. A distinctive scar ran through his left eye, and ended by his mouth. The edges of a pentagram peeked out from behind a fringe of hair. He had the most spectacular eyes, like pools of mercury, tinted with the faintest trace of indigo. He wore a long, tan overcoat over a white button-down, dark trousers, and heavy-duty boots. A white cape made of feather-like material billowed from his shoulders, and a silver mask rested on the top of his head. He had the body of an acrobat and carried himself with the air of a swordsman.

With a flick of his wrist, the cape and mask disappeared, and suddenly, he looked almost human. He studied her with the air of childish curiosity, a slight smile on his lips. And yet, his eyes betrayed his war-weary years, the downright brokenness of the Servant before her, like those who have stopped expecting things from the world. They were the eyes that she had seen every time she had seen her father. If his eyes had been the same shade of blood red as her own, he could have easily passed as her older brother.

His smile vanished as he took in her torn dress and filthy form splattered with blood and dirt. He hurriedly took off his coat, and with two swift strides, he was beside her, wrapping the large coat around her petite frame like a blanket.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” He chattered noisily, scanning her for injuries and the like. Stunned by his concern, Illya could only nod in her daze. Berserker let out a visible sigh of relief, and stood up.

“That’s good to hear.” He said. He gazed a her in thought, and she frowned. What was he planning? Whatever she had thought, went out the window when he swept her up in his arms.

“Wha, what are you doing?” She sputtered, startled by the sudden motion. Berserker chuckled at her confusion, and gave her a small grin.

“It’s too cold for you to be walking barefoot, and this way we can move faster.” He answered. Illya huffed, but said nothing, choosing to burrow into the coat instead.

“Here we go!” He chirped, and broke into a dead run, flinging snow up in his wake. Illya clung to his neck in fright, not wanting to be sent flying by the speed at which they were traveling.

This Servant was strange, but powerful. Sure, he lacked the size and brute strength the Berserker class usually had, but made up for it in speed, as demonstrated in his long strides as he ran. Yes, Illya found this one suitable for her needs.

She had no idea how much this summoning would effect the course of the Holy Grail War to come.


	2. The Threat

On their way back to the estate, Illya got to learn more about the mysterious Berserker. He was warm and friendly, and while a perfect gentleman, he was unafraid to trade sarcastic remarks with her. He was all too happy to regale her with stories of the places he’d been when he was alive, from the palaces of India to the gutter of London. 

There had been a brief pause when a pack of wolves had attacked, but Berserker quickly took care of them with a sword that disappeared in a flash of white light. It had allowed her to observe him in battle, and she was impressed with what she saw.

Due to his intelligence and skill with swords, he could have been a viable candidate for Saber, but his wild, violent fighting style was  _ definitely _ that of a Berserker. How she had ended up summoning such a unusual Servant, she didn’t know. 

The only thing wrong with this Servant was his identity. Illya had been ordered to summon Herakles, not an unknown man with such unusual abilities. By summoning this strange Berserker, she had disobeyed her grandfather’s orders. Her grandfather had tried to punish her for her insubordination, the key word being tried.

* * *

 

“What is this?” Jubstacheit sneered, gesturing a veiny hand towards Berserker. The Servant frowned, glaring daggers at the elder man. 

“I summoned Berserker as ordered, sir.” Illya said quietly. Her grandfather turned red with fury.

“I ordered you to summon Herakles, not some unknown hero!” He yelled, and he raised a hand to strike her. Illya flinched, and that was all Berserker needed.

Before his hand could connect with Illya’s face, Berserker had intercepted him. He held Jubstacheit’s wrist in a death grip, not quite enough to break it, but tight enough to prevent him from moving. That didn’t stop him from struggling.

“Unhand me, filth!” Jubstacheit snarled, and Berserker’s grip tightened. His struggles became just a bit more frantic. Berserker laughed lightly at his panic.

“How does it feel, to be at another’s mercy? Not pleasant, is it?” He said. Juberstacheit sputtered, but Berserker cut him off with a harsh squeeze of the wrist.

“Let’s get something straight.” Berserker’s voice was dead flat,”If you ever try to hurt my Master ever again, I. Will. End. You.” With each word, his grip got tighter, until there was a sickening CRUNCH!, and Jubstacheit let out a scream of pain. Berserker chuckled darkly. Seemingly satisfied with his work, Berserker released his wrist, and Jubstacheit crumpled to the ground clutching his ruined wrist.

Berserker turned to Illya, who still stood there, stunned. She was brought out of her stupor when she locked onto Berserker’s eyes. They were not the whimsical silver that had become rather familiar in the hours before, but a mesmerizing caramel gold that glowed with power. He blinked, and then his eyes were back to his sweet silver.  
With a smile, he herded her off to bed. She dismissed the change of eye color as a trick of the light, but the feeling of uneasiness remained.


	3. STATS!!

**Berserker**

**True Name:** Allen Walker

 **Master:** Illyasviel von Einzbern

 **Alternate Classes:** Rider, Saber

 

**Parameters**

**Strength:** A

 **Endurance:** A

 **Agility:** B

 **Mana:** C

 **Luck:**  E

 **Noble Phantasm:**  A

 

**Class Abilities**

**Mad Enchantments: D**

Due to his unique circumstances, Neah possesses this ability, allowing Allen to retain a sound mind. However, if Neah were to ever take control in a battle, he would destroy everything in his path.

 

**Personal Abilities**

**Battle Continuation: A**

Allen’s Battle Continuation comes from the will to protect others, to the point that that he’d fight until he could no longer move.

**Independent Action: A**

**Eye of the Mind (True): B**

**Charisma: C**

While not quite able to lead armies and vast empires, he is able to charm anyone with his charming smile and polite manner.

**Swordsmanship: B**

 

**Noble Phantasms**

**Holy Gladiator**

**Rank:**  A-> A+

 **Type:** Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm

A powerful combination of shield and sword, with the near-impossible-to-pierce Crown Clown and the Sword of Exorcism. Only Noble Phantasms can pierce Crown Clown. Due to Allen's uniquer circumstances as the only Innocence holder in the Throne of Heroes, Holy Gladiator is the one Noble Phantasm that Gilgamesh doesn't have.

Due to his ascension to the Throne of Heroes, the Sword of Exorcism was changed. It can harm all those corrupted by the Grail or long exposure to mana. AKA the reason why he was able to kill the wolves in the Black Forest. 

However, when he uses Holy Gladiator, he has to be careful about how close he is in proximity to Illya. Due to her homunculus heritage, prolonged exposure to Crown Clown is potentially fatal, but her human heritage slows the effects down. A pure homunculus's soul would be separated from its body in a matter of minutes.

**Ark of Noah**

**Rank:** E~A++

 **Type:** Support

Acts as a method of teleportation, allowing him to attack his opponent from any direction he chooses, or summon objects by opening portals under them.


	4. The Photograph

Illya was annoyed. No, annoyed wasn’t enough to describe her mood. She was frustrated with the lack of results in her research. What research? Well, you see, for nearly a month now, Illya had searched the Einzbern library for clues as to Berserker’s legend. Berserker didn’t know what she was up to, and only came in to usher her to bed and get her for meals. Mostly, the enigmatic man kept busy by helping the homunculus with cleaning. For weeks, Illya poured over books, searching to no avail. She had come up empty handed day after day, until now.

She glared at the unassuming journal she’d found hidden behind some books. The only reason she had spared it a second glance was the edge of paper that stuck out of it. Curiosity prompted her to open it, and she came face to face with an ancient photograph.

The photograph was yellowed by decades of age, most likely taken around the turn of the 20th century if she had to guess, and was incredibly fragile. But even with the damage caused by time, she recognized one of the faces in it. Her Berserker stared up at her from the left side of the photo, a smile on his lips. He looked slightly younger in the photo, but not by much. His body language said that the other people were very close to him, perhaps they were friends? All of them looked young, ranging from mid-teens to early twenties. Berserker himself looked to be in his mid to late teens. Despite the jovial scene portrayed, all of them had weary eyes, eyes that had seen too much.

She made to turn the yellowed photo over, but before she could, she froze. 

Maybe there was a reason why Berserker had been so vehement against telling her his name. Maybe she shouldn’t look.

But she just had to know. Her curiosity won out, and she turned it over.

 _(Left to Right) Allen Walker, Howard Link, Yuu Kanda, Lenalee Lee, Lavi Bookman,_ was printed on the back in faded cursive.

“Allen Walker,” She murmured, letting his name roll over her tongue. It suited him, she thought.

Berserker was Allen Walker, and Illya felt guilty about ever finding the photo in the first place.

* * *

Illya didn’t eat much of her dinner that evening. Her stomach churned with frenzied butterflies at the idea of Berserker’s identity, making it difficult to eat. How was she going to tell him that she knew his real name, and possibly bring back painful memories? She apparently let her anxiety show on her face, because Berserker excused the two of them, and pulled her outside. His face was strained with worry.

“Master, is something wrong?” He asked softly. Illya’s breath hitched. The butterflies flew into a hurricane. Her mind wild with anxiety, she looked up at him.

“... Allen...Walker.” She managed to say after a few moments of struggling to speak. Immediately, the atmosphere turned cold. Berserker looked a combination of shock, rage, pain, and grief.

“Master… where did you learn that name?” He finally said, his voice level but wavering. Illya’s heart sank more in her guilt. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. So she reached into her coat’s pocket, and carefully pulled out the yellowed photograph. She held it out to him, and he took it gingerly. His eyes widened when he took in the image.

“I found it in the library. I was trying to locate your legend.” Illya said, guilt filling her when he looked at her with tear-filled silver eyes.

“I wish you’d never found it.” He whispered. He turned on his heel and ran off. She was left behind, legs frozen in place, unable to chase after him. In that moment, as she watched him leave, Illya had never felt more alone.

* * *

Berserker didn’t speak to her for a week. Illya tried engaging him into talking with a “ Hello, Berserker!” or a “How are you, Berserker?” but alas, her efforts failed. Salt was added to the wound when he refused to even look at her. And yet, she didn’t blame him for a moment. She had betrayed Berserker’s trust, and now she was paying the price for her crime.

* * *

A week after the incident, Illya cornered Berserker in the hall. His gaze was diverted to the ceiling, just so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“Berserker, talk to me, please.” She said. Berserker didn’t meet her eyes. Illya wasn’t about to give up, though. With shaky fingers, she wrapped her hand around Berserker’s. Shocked by the contact, Berserker looked down at her, and the butterflies stirred in her stomach. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed him until now.

“I’m sorry, Berserker. I just… my curiosity got the better of me.” She said. She was answered by Berserker kneeling before her and wrapping her in a hug.

“No, Master. Please don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” Berserker said softly. Illya squirmed so she could look him in the eye.

“But it is, Berserker!” She said, only for Berserker to shake his head.

“No, it’s not. I’m to blame,” He said, giving her a sad smile, “I should have just told you. The only reason I was upset was because you found a picture of my friends. I miss them.” They sat there for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Illya was the one to finally break the silence.

“... Do you want to talk about it?” She suggested. Berserker shook his head.

“There are some things that are best left undisturbed, Master. My past is one of them.” He said. This time, Illya accepted that. If he didn’t want to tell her, she wasn’t going to pry this time.

 


	5. NOTICE

So hey guys. I know it's been a long time since I updated this fic, but I'm in the process of rewriting this fic as I write this. If you want to read the rewritten version, here's the link: [Argentum (New Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619318/chapters/33786207) . The rewritten one will be longer and more canon-friendly than this one, and any updates will be posted there. Thank you for reading this fic, and I will be sure to add new chapters soon!

 

With determination, your tired writer,

TheRedQueen


End file.
